


Another Hazy Day

by vonPeeps



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Puppies, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 11:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonPeeps/pseuds/vonPeeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill: Molly finds an abandoned puppy and takes it in until she can find a home for it. The puppy looks just like Redbeard...<br/>Fluffy little one-shot for weasleygirl928 on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Hazy Day

   A hazy day. A humdrum day. The susurration of drizzle that had ghosted her windows all day now tapped insistently on her umbrella. Clammy damp crawled its way up her calves, a tideline nearly at the knee of overlong trousers. Spring had sprung, but winter wasn’t going down easily.

   Lists and jobs twirled in an endless cycle round her mind, food then work then chores, an inexorable whirlpool. Nothing enough to anchor her in one place, or in the moment, but all insistent niggles on the edge of her awareness. _What would it be like,_ she wondered, _to be able to navigate your way easily when the mist sets in?_

   A little yip, quiet, almost self-conscious, tugged her rapidly into focus. Looking around, she saw the source of the sound. Huddled in the lee of a bin, a small tumble of muddy curls and gangly limbs; a canine echo of her husband after a case gone south. Crouching, letting him come to her, she took in the little cur’s plight – ribs barely covered with skin, a shiver rippling its way through its whole body, alone. _Right Molls, what next?_

   The worst of the mud scraped off, russet tones revealed in the glint of passing headlights, Molly gathered the tiny dot into her arms. With no lead, shielding the pup in her coat seemed the best plan, and if the damp snuffle pressed into the crook of her neck as they traversed the city was anything to go by, her tiny companion agreed.

   “Home now, little one, welcome to Baker Street.” Fumbling with her coat and the cuddle, a laconic drawl from the corner had her wincing.

   “Really, Molly, when I asked you to pick up something for dinner, this wasn’t what I expected.”

   “Look at him, I couldn’t leave him out there in the rain. He’s skin and bone, and only a baby.”

   “It’s Wiggins all over again…”

   “What?”

   “Feed a stray once, Molly, and they’ll think they live here.”

   “Like I fed you, you mean? Back when I was just a bolt-hole?”

   “Precisely. I took full advantage of your softness, and look where that got you.”

   “Fine, if I’m too soft? You look after it! I’m getting a shower.”

   As hot needles of water rained down on her, prickling life back into frigid limbs, reluctant plans began to form. _When you love a man of logic, you agree to mould yourself into that shape, right? No room for “so cute, can I keep him” when there are vets to ring and posters to make?_

   Wrapped in terrycloth, warmer in body but trying desperately to grow a kernel of ice in her heart, the sight in the lounge brought her up short. Nose to nose, understanding flowing from sharp blue eyes into brown, man and puppy lay unmoving on the sofa.

   “He says his name is Barbarossa.”

   “Oh does he? And how did he come up with that?”

   “Just… a memory.” 

   Some days feel hazy, feel humdrum. A day shrouded in mist, a slow wade through the tide. But sometimes, just sometimes, the sun can burn off that fog, the world swims into view. And the things you thought you knew are changed in that sudden shaft of light. _Maybe its sentiment that’s catching, after all?_


End file.
